


Vegeta's Giant, Massive, Imposing Mahogany Desk

by blackswans22, cyevi



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Alternate Universe, Authors think they're funny, Comedy, F/M, Prude Vegeta, Questionable Lawyers, Raditz Gives Tawdry Advice, Smutty goodness, Vegebul, Vegebulocracy First Dates 2021, Vegeta Has a Massive Desk Apparently, blind dates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-15 13:35:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29436909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackswans22/pseuds/blackswans22, https://archiveofourown.org/users/cyevi/pseuds/cyevi
Summary: After Raditz pushes Vegeta one conversation too far, the uptight junior attorney reluctantly agrees to a blind date with a blue-haired woman in a red dress. Confidence in tow, Vegeta heads to the bar and approaches the first blue haired woman he sees. If he's lucky, he'll get to show her his amazing desk later.Written for Vegebulocracy First Dates 2021
Relationships: Bulma Briefs & Vegeta, Bulma Briefs/Vegeta
Comments: 168
Kudos: 143
Collections: Vegebul First Dates





	1. The Dilemma

He pursed his lips while running his pointer finger along his hundred-year-old antique desk, tracing the grains of beautifully inlaid mahogany. Like the rest of his office, the quality had a purpose. If there was one thing he’d like all of his coworkers to know about him without having to utter a word, it was that Vegeta was not a man of mediocrity. He would take any opportunity to point out his impressive history—graduated at the top of his class, handpicked for the prestigious firm Bardock and Sons Union Legal of West City—but he preferred the impression be conveyed before words were even exchanged. A client should get the idea of overwhelming integrity and dependability as soon as they walked into his office, simply from the exquisite craftsmanship of the carved maple bookshelves, the imported Italian leather of his chairs. Even more so, he expected any lawyer he had the displeasure of working with should see his precedence as they were forced to look past the massive, imposing piece of furniture, and act accordingly.

It went without saying the timeless artisanal decor had an unspoken purpose for all the cretins with their plastics and Ikea collection furniture: through his display, he knew himself to be vastly superior to everyone else. 

Sadly, or more to his vexation, there were a few daily contacts that just didn’t get the hint of appropriate behavior, regardless of how regally decorated his personal space was. 

“Heya, Vegeta. How’s it going?” One such halfwit, a burly man by the unfortunate moniker of Raditz, stood in the doorway for less than a second without waiting for an invitation and plopped himself in one of the chocolate brown leather high wingback chairs. The man adjusted himself at such an irksome angle to relax his legs over the side of one of the arms, his black Oxfords dangled over the exquisite Persian rug under them. 

No matter how many times the younger lawyer narrowed his eyes, sarcastically berated the dolt or outright yelled for some peace and quiet from the rest of those he had to deal with, he and all the other coworkers seemed to think it was some kind of friendly game. Like all they needed to do was poke the bear enough to find out he was actually cuddly and warm on the inside. If it weren’t for the fact Vegeta was trying to fast track his way into a partnership with one of the seniors who happened to be the father of two simpletons, he would have mauled them within his first week.

“Raditz, how many times have I said that chair is an antique. It’s not to be… laid on.” He emphasized with a sneer, ignoring the chuckle that came out of the large man across from him while perusing the stack of paperwork, a fountain pen in his right hand. This man, with his stupid face and gym bro attitude, liked to poke the bear a lot.

“You may have said  _ something  _ about it once or twice,” the mongrel replied with an impish grin, digging his generous ass into the cushion in response, “But I’m actually here for a reason. And since you’ve already mentioned it, let me cut to the chase. I wanna get you laid, my friend.” The man brushed his long black hair, much too long for a respectable lawyer in Vegeta's opinion, out of his face as his grin widened.

The fountain pen left a large inkblot across page 34 of a prenuptial agreement Vegeta was in the process of reviewing while suddenly looking up, as if the man had spontaneously caught fire in his office. 

“I beg your pardon... What?” he croaked, trying to maintain a level of composure.

“I wanna get you laid. C’mon. You need it.”

Vegeta grimaced at the tactlessly lewd suggestion. “I don't need any such thing. And certainly not from  _ you _ of all people.”

His unwelcome ‘guest’ picked at his nails and every scratch was audible. Vegeta’s eye twitched as Raditz continued obliviously. “I am one of the very few people of which you, my pent up, stick-in-the-mud friend, could benefit from. Now look, I know you’re a hard-working guy and I admire that. God knows Dad sees you as a better investment than me or Kakarot but we just happen to be of his seed so he has to like us. I’m here with an offer of camaraderie. You’ve been doing this broody, untouchable, Tibetan monk act for long enough. It’s comin’ off as downright virginal. People are talking. And not to your benefit. I want to help you loosen up.” He had the audacity to wink.

“Before I vomit, please tell me you’re not trying to make a pass at me,” Vegeta grimaced.

The big man cackled. “You couldn't handle all this, my man.”

At his wit’s end, Vegeta mashed his fingers into his eyes. “Get out of my office.” 

Ignoring him, Raditz stood up and helped himself to some of Vegeta’s hand picked knickknacks on his maple wood bookcase. 

“Look, I’m not gonna lie. I may not be the best lawyer”— Vegeta scoffed loudly. Unperturbed, Raditz nodded his head —“Yeah, I know. Shocking. And I’m not gonna deny there isn’t some  _ mild _ nepotism at play here. Part of the business, you know? But I feel that if I can offer my talents of matchmaking, you will become a stronger asset and not be such a prick in the firm.”

Vegeta had begun to rub his digits into his temples to soothe the growing irritation. “And setting me up with one of your whores will solidify this?”

Raditz stuck up a thick finger in protest. Vegeta nearly beaded sweat as he watched his coworker manhandle an heirloom gold clock with an abalone face with his other mitt. Thankfully the goon put it down with a thunk on the desk. “Hey, first of all, I don't set up people with whores. I happen to enjoy the perks of being a sleazy lawyer who makes enough money to go to the dom den and have a beautiful woman shave my ass.”

Vegeta visibly shuddered while gingerly retrieving the clock, pulling out a microfleece cloth for fingerprints and inspecting the piece for damage. “I’ve told you before, ad nauseam, stop telling me about your kinks.”

Raditz gave a salacious grin. “And secondly, yes. I will set you up because you are tighter than a nun’s cunt, my friend. You need to relax, unwind. I, for sure, know it’s because you haven’t gotten your dick wet in a while. How long’s it been?” 

Placing the clock back on the shelf, Vegeta rolled his eyes. “Of course you would think that’s the issue. Are sure it’s not just that I hold you all in deserved contempt? What is your astute reasoning for this?”

“Call it my sex sense. Been a couple weeks, then?” Raditz pried, scrutinizing the shorter man. When Vegeta didn’t budge, Raditz took this as a sign as the grin gradually dropped with the added length of time. “A month? More?” 

Balking in both amazement and deep sympathy, the larger man finally shook his head. Vegeta couldn’t help the blooming of crimson across his face as he filled with silent embarrassment. The man was strangely accurate. Vegeta hated him with every fiber of his being. 

“Wow, dude. A year?” For a moment, Raditz looked like it was all too much. Then his lip turned up as if he had sniffed a rare deal. “Okay, so here’s what we’re gonna do. I’m gonna set you up with a gorgeous woman I know.”

“No.” Vegeta crossed his arms tightly. 

“I will not let you say no, dude. You need me. You need  _ it _ !” he whined.

“No,” Vegeta repeated in the same tone.

“Aw c’mon. She’s… nice,” He said with a coy inflection.

Reading between the lines, Vegeta narrowed his eyes. “Loose is more like it.”

“Fun,” Raditz corrected adamantly. “And entertaining. Are you an ass or boob man?”

“I’m not answering that.” 

“Well, she’s got both. So there you go.”

“I will not entertain a woman you had first. Who knows what kind of... issues she picked up from you. Poor woman, probably in the process of re-evaluating her life or something. Clearly, she’s not in her right mind to have engaged with someone like you in the first place and walked away unscathed.”

“Fine. Don't fuck her. Use her as.. practice? Like a practice date. Get back out there. Play the field a little. Then settle for an uptight woman that can both dust your chotchkies and turn her nose up at the help.”

Vegeta tightened his arms across his chest as he pursed his lips. “You’re not making your case.”

“Geets, you’re a good looking guy. Got that… mysterious, pissed off look that most chicks dig. It's like, attractive resting bitch face. C’mon. You’ve apparently been single for a long time and maybe you need the practice,” Raditz implored then went in for the jugular. “You don't really strike me as the kinda guy that can even  _ talk  _ to a woman, romantically speaking.” 

Vegeta opened and closed his mouth feeling his face flush to his ears. 

Seemingly finding the weak spot, Raditz slammed his big hands on the desk with purpose and squared his shoulders. “Before you try to argue, do you remember a couple weeks ago when we were all in that meeting? And you screamed at another junior partner because he criticized your tie? Your tie, man! Now, if someone was gettin’ some, he wouldn’t freak the fuck out over a piece of cloth. Look at my brother. Do you see him getting all worked up over shit? No. ‘Cause his wife gives it to him on the reg and that guy is calmer than a fucking water lily.”

Vegeta pinched his mouth in consideration. It wasn’t true. Sure, he was… angry. A touch on the stricter side. Perhaps prone to irritation. He had to be because he worked with an office full of fucking clowns. Or because his workload was stressful. He looked up at his wall of pristine heirlooms and antiques, perfectly arranged to make him look and feel important, imposing, untouchable. Maybe too unapproachable. It had been a while...

“Now, you can either take my offer of a lovely evening with a smoking 10 and mellow the fuck out. Or you can sit there with your shrink-wrapped dick and continue to yell at people until  _ I _ get made partner.”

Vegeta cringed at the thought. Maybe one date wouldn’t hurt. He could use a night out even if the date was awful. If it would get Raditz off his back...

He stood up from the safety of his leather-studded desk chair, ran his fingers through his thick hair and tried to sigh out as much of the discomfort that roiled around inside his chest. At length, Vegeta looked up into the oaf’s triumphantly gleeful face. 

“What’s her name?”


	2. The Drink

_ Maron. _

The bar was pleasantly upscale, much to his relief. It was situated in a 5-star hotel in the more affluent part of downtown, posh and modern and thankfully quiet enough. He wouldn’t have gone if it even remotely resembled a dive or sports bar. He had a set of standards, despite the sordid reason behind being in the bar in the first place. If he couldn’t walk in wearing a suit without feeling overdressed, it wasn’t his kind of place, thank you very much. 

Glancing around mildly admiring the usage of artistically blown glass light fixtures and dark leather bar stools pulled up to a copper-covered bar top, he perused the clientele in business attire similar to his own and felt remotely more comfortable at the choice of meeting place. Only the lone crack of billiard balls from the pool tables that stretched in a line all the way to the back of the bar and brief exclamation drew any rise in volume from the more trendy patrons. Hard as it was to give Raditz the benefit of the doubt, Vegeta sighed in mollifying appeasement that, for once, the garish cur didn't manage to lead him astray.

_ Maron. _

With gin and tonic in hand, Vegeta scrunched his face as he averted his wandering gaze from a billiard game in play to scanning the primly dressed personage chatting in hushed conversation under dimmed yellow light. He scoured females for the beacon of his search quickly as he heard Raditz’s annoying voice in his head. Finding the woman as soon as possible would get the dolt off his mind. Hopefully, he could end the night early, woman sufficiently wooed, and never speak of this nonsense quest again. 

_ She’ll be in a red dress. Probably to show off her great tits. She also has blue hair. Yeah, I know, weird right? But it’s all-natural. Not like the rest of her. You’ll like her. Man, those tits… _

Vegeta groaned peevishly at the idiot’s only defining impression of the poor woman being of a purely physical nature. Vegeta surveyed the room for a woman in red with blue hair and… large breasts.

How he even agreed to second helpings to whatever tawdry piece Raditz had in his throng of recommendations was beyond his understanding. A challenge, perhaps. The man had basically called him an uptight prude. He’d show that hairy sasquatch a thing or two to shut his ugly face up.

A flash of teal caught his eye across the room towards the far right. There, a blue haired woman sat alone at a table for two, reading a hardback book under a soft, yellowed lamp. She twisted a loose tendril a second time while sipping a dark red negroni, the glass glinting like a teasing wink. Raising an impressed eyebrow at the fact that his blind date bimbo was indeed literate, Vegeta did also confirm she was wearing red as he strode over to her small table. He couldn’t help but notice she had a lovely face with sparse makeup, red lips, large eyes, and soft features that he found appealing, as well as her cleavage that did look enticing in the low cut of her dress. 

She didn’t look up as he approached. He cleared his throat and watched her gaze go from the page to his face, inquisitive blue irises honed on him framed in dark lashes. Her red lips parted just so.

“Hello,” he said. She tilted her head as she dog-eared her page. He noticed her dark red painted nails against the white of the pages. Then his eyes traveled to her creamy legs, crossed at the knee, just peeking out from under the table with admiration. Raditz warned she may not be much of a conversationalist but Vegeta could appreciate her at face value, at the very least. 

“Hello.” There was a hint of uncertainty as her lips parted to speak. Her dainty fingers touched the black straw immersed in the short crystal glass as she absentmindedly played with the orange peel in the liquor. She blinked slowly, revealing her smokey grey eyeshadow.

The loud clack of billiards drew him out of his silent observation. “May I sit down?” he inquired.

A whisper of a smile as she put her book flat on the table and laced her fingers across it. “I’m not looking for company.” 

_ I’ll tell her you like hard to get. You seem like the kind of guy that likes a little bit of a challenge. _

“Your loss, then.” He shrugged, placing his empty hand in his pocket while swirling the liquor in the glass in his other hand delicately. “I would assume a woman sitting by herself in a bar would perhaps be open to some interesting conversation, if the right person came along. I can’t imagine how a place like this would be appropriate for cozy book reading. It would almost suggest that you weren’t particularly trying to avoid unwanted attention but, in fact, were waiting for someone. And that someone is me,” he said with a confident smirk.  _ Fuck Raditz for thinking I didn’t know how to talk to women. _

She raised a teal eyebrow. “I was quite enjoying my book. What could my interesting conversationalist possibly have to offer me in terms of a stimulating exchange?” she said deliberately coy.

He hid his apprehensive swallow and puffed out his chest, enhancing his smirk. “I’m a lawyer. I happen to find myself very stimulating.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever met an overconfident lawyer before,” she smiled and brought her drink to her mouth, pinching the black straw between her perfect white teeth. She motioned to the chair opposite her. “I’ll bite, Mr. Lawyer. Stimulate me.”

He nodded with a deep, satisfied chuckle as he seated himself across from her. Her description not what he’d expected, Vegeta was surprised at the ease of their initial banter which was rather articulate, pithy and endearing. He wondered if her wit wasn’t just surface level as he sipped his G and T, letting the alcohol do its job in loosening his tightly wound nerves.

* * *

On the other side of the bar, a woman wept with a fake pitiful sniffle as she leaned up against the edge of a billiard table, making sure to not bring actual tears to her blue eyes and ruin her caked-on mascara. A gaggle of attractive male suitors surrounding her in collective concern, one brazenly brushing a wavy blue curl behind her ear as he canted his blonde head to the side and flashed a charming plastic smile.

“What’s the matter, darling?” he asked, cozying up to her side, his eyes overtly dipping to the cavern between her ample bosoms. 

She smoothed out the discount red cocktail dress that left very little to the imagination as she plumped up her rack with intentional but sly adjustment. Drawing her eyes up with a whimper, she dramatically sighed. 

“I got stood up,” she pouted, puffing out her red lips and fishing for sympathy.

Hook, line and sinker, the man brushed his thumb across her rouged cheek, letting it linger. “You poor thing. Let me buy you another drink.”

At the mention of a free alcoholic pick-me-up, she magically recovered from her dejected state and fluttered her eyelids prettily, “I’d love that.”

“Is your name as pretty as your face, doll?” He said in a whisper as he trailed a finger on her soft chin while his other hand snaked around to her rear.

“I’d hope so,” she tittered, letting his hand find purchase on her ass. “It’s Maron.”


	3. The Diva

Bulma lightly tapped her nails against the spine of her book as she observed her ‘new friend’ with a keen eye. The hour of chatting appeared to have loosened him enough that his knuckles were no longer white from nerves as he nursed his second glass of the evening. His obvious uncertainty, along with his arrogance, were like a cheap cocktail she couldn’t stop ordering. 

Added into the mix: impossibly dark eyes that belied something more serious than his arrogance, a crown of neatly upswept black hair, a well-tailored suit she had correctly guessed was from Salada's pre-fall line, and her never empty negroni, which he thoughtfully kept ordering for her. Stir slowly for an hour and Bulma considered the evening the perfect diversion. 

Over the years, her job had become an exciting but all-encompassing burden. From the moment he sat down, she was glad to happen upon such an attractive distraction from the steady stream of little work demands that plagued her mind.

“Well, Maron,” he began again as he took another sip. It wasn’t a fluke. He had said this charming moniker four times by her count, almost as if he was testing its taste on his tongue and finding it more and more to his liking. Her eyebrow quirked at the name each time and her heart skipped a beat. A lawyer who  _ really  _ didn’t recognize her, the famous Blue Siren, the one and only aqua-colored gem among a sea of brilliant white diamond attorneys in West City. The man was wildly overconfident, yet so green in the field, grass would be jealous. A ripple of delight coursed through her nerves as she realized that she could be invisible for the evening, desired not for her talent in court, but for an evidently lewd reason. She hadn’t a clue as to whom this Maron person was, but Bulma was more curious about the fresh meat delivered to her table that she was willing to play into his little game for a while. 

She smiled and tucked a stray hair behind her ear. Whatever reason being that she had been mistaken for someone else, it wasn’t very often she’d been given the chance to play with her food. 

“The last decree I was awarded saw that my client was due $40,000 in arrearages.” The man took a quick swig from his glass and glanced through the swallow, clearly expecting Bulma to swoon at the large number and complex terminology. She decided to humor him and leaned forward onto the table, pressing her the cleavage of her low-cut dress forward as she dramatically gasped. She noticed he couldn’t resist a downward glance between her breasts. He continued, thumping his glass a little too hard onto the table. “The wife had tried to hide the fact that she wasn’t fully emancipated from her children, but the discovery work I did ensured the best settlement for her ex. I made a cool million for that case.”

“Ah, so you’re a divorce lawyer, Vegeta?” 

“I am indeed,” He grinned, as if he were pleased to be recognized. “Only for the finest families in West City.” 

He whipped out a small, silver case from his breast pocket, unclicked the hinge and produced a finely typeset business card. As he handed her the namesake, his dark eyes finally returned to hers flickering with brazen confidence. Whether from his abject hubris or the fact that sweet alcohol made his features stand out more, a warm tingle swept through her core. 

As she took the card for inspection, she bit down on any hint of expression. “Big firm. Bardock and Sons.”

Of course, she knew Bardock’s firm. At least a third of her cases, the ones she didn't care to pursue anyway, ended up with Bardock or one of his brood on the other side of the conference room. Occasionally, she’d go head to head with the competing firm, her winning streak the bane of the Sr. Son’s existence. She was well aware of the handsome crew, but they were no match for her discoveries and precise arguments. They didn’t have a single win against her yet. This man must be their newest hire, young, bold and brimming with aplomb, yet unaware of the master sitting across from him. She decided that tonight might hold a world of discoveries if she played her cards right.

“Oh, that’s very impressive!” She upped her attitude and fawned a little over the card, rubbing her thumb over the raised letters of his name. She dangled a bit of bait to check his honesty. “Are you a partner?”

His back straightened and he took another gulp of his G&T before scrutinizing her face. She raised one hand to rest her chin and leaned her body a bit closer to his. 

“Associate, for now. But I expect to make partner within a year.” A lawyer at Bardock’s firm, who didn’t know  _ her _ , but somehow felt entitled to becoming a partner in a year? This man was full of himself. She was shocked he hadn’t already bragged about whatever school he went to as well. 

“That might seem impossible for most, but I graduated from Tokyo University in only two years, Summa Cum Laude, of course.” He preened pretty as a peacock and gave her another smirk that pissed her off as much as it sent a shiver to her core. As much as this cocky man definitely needed to be taken down a notch, maybe he should also be a notch between her legs tonight.

“So, tell me.” She ran a fingertip along the edge of her drink and touched the tip of her tongue to her lip. She followed with her most ditzy voice. “Have you ever encountered a case where the corpus delicti was, like, irrelevant to the actus reus?”

He kept his smirk, but she saw something glint in his eyes. Something dangerous and calculating.

“Hear that off last week’s episode of  _ West City Judge Jaco _ ?” He chuckled and took another sip of his drink while glancing away from her, to the bar. “All those reality legal shows are all scripted, you know. If you were in the business, you’d know right away that drivel is nothing but flowery legal jargon and forced dramatic conflict. Gods, even some that I work with fall prey to its inane, predictable storytelling, as if it helps them be better attorneys or something.” He sneered, his lovely lips drawing up in soured reflection. “What I do is much more ex parte. All by myself.”

_ Oh, lusciously smug, aren’t you.  _

“Wow! You mean you don’t have any legal secretaries?” She tittered at his boastfulness and chanced tapping his forearm with the tips of her fingers. Hot bolts shot through her skin as she felt unrelentingly hard muscles below his jacket. And he wasn’t even flexing. She bit her lip to hide the impressed gasp and caught the beginnings of a slight blush on his high cheekbones. 

He cleared his throat while regaining composure. “Of course I have secretaries. But they just get documents from our files. I’m the one who does all the work.”

“I bet they love working for you. You seem very,” she paused and waited for him to return his gaze to hers. When he did, she dipped her chin and her voice. “...in control.”

As if he had stuck his toe into an electrical socket, she swore she saw the hair on his head straighten and stiffen. And that probably wasn’t the only thing getting stiffer. Dessert was almost ready. She scooted closer to him, sucked in now by the obvious fake bravado he wore atop his insecurities, and traced her hand up to his bicep. 

His muscle flexed unexpectedly as a basic ringtone set off in his breast pocket. She bit her tongue gently to avoid snickering at the sound. Who doesn’t set custom ringtones these days? He mouthed an “Excuse me” to her and reluctantly pulled his arm away from her squeezing fingers. And then he pulled out a flip phone. A  _ flip phone.  _ Straight from two decades ago. 

“This is Vegeta.” He turned away from her, but slightly. As he prattled on in his business voice, commanding and in control, she noticed he still glanced back, and down, at her chest while listening to the person on the other end. She shimmied her shoulders and pursed her lips.  _ Oh, boy. You crave these distractions. Time to go in for the kill. _ Her now free hand slipped under the table, and landed on his knee with a light squeeze. Just as muscular and sculpted as she had imagined. Clearly, he got in some effective workouts on his off days. Too bad he had to hide his physique under his perfectly tailored suit. Her brain immediately wanted to know how long he could pin her up against a wall. She caught his Adam’s apple bobbing as he looked away in a fractured attempt at maintaining professionalism on the phone.

How could someone so evidently dripping in self-assurance and sex appeal be so horribly shy and prudish at the same time? With a playful buzz running through her mind, Bulma set her sights on the intriguing man squirming while trying to hold a serious conversation. 

“Raditz, not now. I’m … busy, remember?” Vegeta turned away from her enough to showcase his sharp profile, but not so much that she was removed from his space. She took advantage of the moment and moved closer in the booth. Briefly, she removed her hand from his knee and slipped it onto her own, inching up the high slit of her dark maroon dress. The body-hugging silk slid away and revealed a creamy thigh traced with fine lace near the top. 

“Right now?” His voice was brusk like he could barely contain a growl from his chest. Bulma couldn’t take it. She had to have this one. She caught him glancing back at her, then down at her lap, and her leg, and the pooling of fabric settling between her thighs. 

He must have realized he was gawking because his chin shot up and another blush raced across his high cheekbones. Bulma mouthed her answer to him, to the question he really should have already asked. 

_ Right. Now. _

He swallowed and finished his call. He stood, but before she followed, she tipped the last of her glass into her mouth, taking care to run her thumb across her red lower lip with a coy smile. 


	4. The Dolt

The office building of Bardock and Sons was truly a work of art, even at night. Its sleek modern design, accentuated by its nighttime illumination, made for a powerful sight to behold as one of the more impressive buildings in the city. And perfect to showcase with pride to his new lady friend. 

As Maron stepped out of his black Audi, she craned her head back to view the enormous building from the sidewalk with a raised eyebrow. She looked impressed.  _ If she likes that, I can't wait to get her into my office,  _ Vegeta thought with a smug smirk, extending his arm like a gentleman and guiding her delicate hand into the crook. The click of her heels sounded melodious to his ears.

All evening, the woman he had half expected to ask for payment upfront had surprised him at every turn. Easy to engage, easy on the eyes, easy to talk to, Maron was so completely, unexpectedly charming that taking her back to his office hadn't felt awkward in the slightest. Vegeta was absolutely floored that Raditz of all people had the ability to woo such a beautiful, intelligent creature and had the balls to give her up. It was clear she was beyond his league, probably played him for the fool he was, pretending to be a ditz for her own amusement. From what he had gathered about her beforehand, this enticing woman was anything but. It was too bad she was so unaware of the legal system. He probably would have enjoyed an actual conversation regarding the nuances of family law.

They took the elevator and Vegeta couldn’t help getting an eyeful of her perfect ass in the interior mirror looking absolutely gorgeous in her mid-thigh red dress that left hardly anything for the imagination. With her unsubtle proposition in the bar laminated in his mind, he smirked as he figured her outfit would look a lot better on his office floor than on her body. 

The ding of the elevator doors opening roused him from his subtle ogling. He waved her through the threshold and down the long entryway toward his office. Before they even arrived at the entrance to the lobby, a thrashing and slam of another door echoed. Vegeta cringed realizing who was making such a racket at nearly midnight. He just hoped that his associate would refrain from being his typical asshat self, even around a woman he knew. 

Raditz, rifling through a packet of paperwork in his agitated hands, came trampling down from the narrow hallway from his own office to the main reception area while making more noise than a normal person should physically be able to accomplish in such a limited amount of steps. Vegeta restrained an embarrassed wince at the typical barbaric gait of his co-attorney. If only for the woman at his side, Vegeta would probably have been more visibly annoyed at the pounding steps on the carpet or the wall plaques that quaked in his presence as the man’s large frame came closer into focus. Vegeta drew his eyes stealthily to his lady friend just to gauge her reaction to the ruckus only to find she was surprisingly unperturbed. In fact, she held a soft smile that teetered on what looked like humor threatening to crease at the edges of her lips as she stood cross-armed, one hip out in a relaxed stance.  _ Well at least she still finds him amusing _ , he thought with an irritated sneer.

Raditz flipped his long mane of hair to his back in one swoop, eliciting an eye roll from Vegeta, before finally bringing his attention to the two waiting for him. “Oh, hey Vegeta! Sorry to call you back from your hot date but-”

He immediately stopped mid-sentence as the natural swagger of an overconfident oaf broke to a sheet white gape across his visage as he stared wide-eyed and fixated on Maron. 

“Well?” Vegeta inquired impatiently, hoping to get to the point of the interruption so he could stop mixing business and pleasure as soon as possible. “What was so damned important that you needed me to rush down here, Raditz?” The man remained unmoved in stunned silence as his focused gaze went from Maron to Vegeta’s arm wrapped around her waist.

Never before seen the unflappable doofus lose his cool so fast, Vegeta vexedly creased his brows. Thankfully Maron stayed elegantly poised at his side. 

“What are you gawking at?” Vegeta barked, “Are you having a stroke or something? What’s the matter with you?”

“Uhh.” Was all the long-haired man was able to utter before extending his hand in a drawn-out, confused motion after a long awkward pause. “Raditz.”

“Maron.” She replied in a cheery high pitched greeting. Her cherry-lipped mouth spread into a charming smile while the idiot's remained frozen like his brain was rebooting and having signaling issues. Vegeta watched her shake his hand gracefully with a soft hum.

Vegeta’s dark eyes switched between the two in puzzlement. The dolt set him up with her. They were acquainted. Why was he staring at her like that?

“What’s going on? This is Maron.” He said plaintively, with an indicating palm out to his date as he bore questioningly into Raditz’s face.

The switch appearing to finally click into place, Raditz blinked in the shorter man’s direction, nodding overly repetitive in affirmation. “Yup.” He said matter-of-factly. 

“You set us up.”

“Uh-huh.”

“You’re acting like you’ve never seen her before,” Vegeta pressed, his brows still drawn suspiciously. “You  _ know _ her.”

Another series of nods as his eyes never left the woman in the red dress. “Of course I do.”

“Then why are you- I don't have time for this.” Vegeta threw his hands up in frustrated defeat. Of all the idiots he worked with, Raditz was by far the most infuriating. Vegeta didn’t want any of the man’s irksome nature to ruin his evening. “You need to sleep more or stop drinking so much or something.”

“Sound advice, dude.” Raditz monotonously agreed.

To prevent furthering the tiresome interaction, Vegeta rolled his eyes and gently began ushering his date into his office.

“Wait!” A loud panic shout sounded behind him as his hand barely touched the doorknob. 

Vegeta canted his head with such visible disdain, he hoped his associate would get the hint and leave him the fuck alone. “Yes?” 

“Uh. You can’t take her in there.” Raditz stated with slight uncertainty. The man was grating on Vegeta’s last nerve.

“It’s my office.”

“Yeah! I know but…” he pulled Vegeta to the side to whisper with stammered anxiety, “um… uh... oh! Dude, I left all the paperwork on your desk. There’s like, a lot. And it’s all over the place. Don't you want to tidy up? Just a bit?” Raditz’s thick brows went up, hinting. Vegeta made a face. Not only was Raditz driving him crazy with his general presence, but he had dirtied an office that wasn’t his own? Of course, he did. Vegeta ran a hand down his face and reconsidered. Perhaps it was best to take the moment to assess the damage and make his space more presentable. No way was he going to bring the woman into an untidy area. 

“Fine.” He turned to Maron who was busying herself with her nail beds, hip jutted out and humming to herself. Gods, she was beautiful. “Would you mind staying out here for a minute?”

“Sure. I don't mind.” She preened in his direction. Vegeta touched her cheek as he passed, only half noticing the side-eye she gave to Raditz. 

“Alright. Give me a few minutes.” Vegeta pointed an accusatory finger Raditz’s way. “You behave.”


	5. The Deal

Bulma bid her date farewell with an airy wave and a wink as the office doors closed behind him. Without warning, her shoulders were clutched by big hands and body maneuvered into an adjacent, empty conference room, the door gently closed before the stunned face of the long haired associate of Bardock and Sons she knew all too well bore down at her with shock. 

“What are  _ you _ doing here?” he whisper-hissed with enunciation. 

Bulma spun free of Raditz’s manhandling, crossed her arms and jutted her chin in his direction. “That was a terrible performance, Radi. Honestly, I don't think I’ve ever seen you so flustered.”

He visibly shook as he clenched his teeth. “My performance? What the fuck was I suppose to do being blindsided by the likes of you.”

“Do we even have enough time for a chat? I assume you lied about the state of his office.”

“He’ll be plenty occupied,  _ Bulma Briefs _ . Again, what the hell are you doing here?” His face flushed with nervous sweat. 

Oh, how the chain of events over the course of the evening had gotten more and more entertaining. Hell, she hadn’t had this much fun in quite a while. Seeing the panic stricken, absolutely bewildered face of one of her favorite competing counselors clinched it delightfully. 

Bulma placed an indignant hand at her hip. “I was on a date apparently,” she began with an innocent shrug. 

“With him? It wasn’t supposed to —… How did  _ you _ of all people end up—… with… Wait…,” he paused while giving her an unsubtle once over that went from distrustful to lewd in an awkward matter of moments that she had to cross her arms over her chest self consciously. The man was known in their circle of professionals for his salacious demeanor with women and despite her untouchable reputation, she was no exception. 

Thinking he was going to make a pass with how his eyes lingered on her low-cut silk neckline, she was startled to observe his face break out into a huge grin then emit a boisterous laugh of which he didn’t care to reign in while cloistered in the soundproof conference room. His laughter forced her to purse her lips with suspicion. “Wow. This is rich. Nice dress. I like the red.”

She cinched her arms tighter. “It's a  _ maroon _ cocktail dress from Gizelle’s Atelier and cost more than three months of your apartment's rent, thank you very much. Not that you should care, you classless oaf.”

“Impressive. But I’m sure he didn't care either, not with the way it advertises your cleavage,” he replied as he arched a bushy black eyebrow with sardonic intent. “I’m floored. That frigid asshole sends out a line for a sardine and bags himself a great white. I’ll give it to him. For being such a pent up guy with tall hair, he has game apparently.”

Bulma rolled her eyes. Raditz was also known for his roundabout way of speaking as well and, as a woman who preferred straightforward discussion and brass tacks, she was less than amused to prattle on with him all evening. “Am I supposed to know what you’re rambling on about?”

He grinned and shook his head, clearly indulging in whatever was going on at the moment that she was unaware of. “No, honey. Don't worry about it. How the hell did you end up with him?” 

Bristling over the fact that Raditz, _ Raditz, _ had the upper hand on her for once, Bulma adjusted her body to appear casual while formulating a strategy to gain back the status quo in her favor. There was no way the oldest idiot of Bardock and Sons was going to make her look foolish. He’d be wise to remember why she was called the Blue Siren. 

“Funny story. I was at this bar winding down with all the clients I’ve been working with when this handsome man just walked up to me. You won’t believe how stunned I was to discover he was from  _ your _ firm and didn’t have a clue who _ I _ was. Don't you inform your new associates on day one who is Boss Bitch in this town and to stay away?”

Raditz bristled, “what are you planning, huh? You know seducing men and draining them of their life force is murder, right? I know you sirens get off on that.”

“That’s a succubus, moron,” she turned her nose up as she narrowed her eyes, “Sirens drown men at sea with their alluring song.” 

“Said like a conniving woman that can sing anything and have a man on his knees at her mercy.”

“Would  _ you _ like to be one of them?” She smirked and stepped into his personal space, a favorite intimidation tactic of hers, especially powerful on playboys and letches like this one.

For a second he appeared to balk and reconsider his position. Then steeled himself and his precious loins. “Don’t try that on me. I have a lot more willpower than you think.”

She snickered into the back of her hand and winked. “Sure you do, champ. But I’m not here to talk about how easily I dominate  _ you _ , Radi. Kami knows how many times I’ve bruised your fragile male ego when I get all your cases.”

His shoulders drooped as he moped, “when you snake them.”

“When they are lovingly delivered to the  _ right _ attorney,” she teased while pretending to inspect her nails. She jutted her head in the direction of Vegeta’s office just across the hall. “This new one you have is cute. A little on the prideful side but I can handle that.” She snapped her jaws together playfully, enjoying how such a large man recoiled ever so slightly.

“You keep your claws to yourself. He’s not a scratching post for your amusement,” Raditz replied protectively.

“He could be,” Bulma suggested, delighted in making the large man squirm. 

Appearing to have had enough of her toying, Raditz squared his broad shoulders and took the few steps to the door with a determined steel in his eye. “You know what? You need to leave. I’m gonna go in there and tell him you’re a big fraud and-”

“No. Wait!” She said hurriedly, her confident smirk dropped as she grabbed his arm.  _ Uh oh,  _ she thought with a cringe, knowing she made a mistake.

With those two words, he stilled. Turned to look down at her as her cheeks began to redden. He assessed her slowly like he had already won the case before even seeing the judge. He grinned a conniving cheshire cat smile.

“Wait?” Raditz cocked his head with devious scrutiny. “You’re not serious, are you?”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Raditz,” she evaded with feigned innocence, yet not well enough for him to bust out into a mocking belly laugh as her lips thinned. 

“Are you serious right now?! This isn’t a game for once?” he said in between chortles and wiping his eyes from crying. “The Ice Queen. The Blue Siren herself has a little crush. Like an actual dethawing of emotion for another person? And on our baby recruit?”

“Don't call him that,” Bulma warned, pushing out her hips in annoyance.

“Okay, okay. Our stuck up prick of a junior associate. You have a crush. And by the looks of how you’re fidgeting, it’s a little highschool, I’ll-swoon-if-he-touches-my-hand, kinda crush,” he mocked derisively. “It would be adorable if I wasn’t nervous you’d bite him with your fangs and turn him into a zombie.”

Bulma pinched the bridge of her nose. Even when he was marginally gaining traction on her, she was floored that he still managed to say something half witted and lose 10 steps. “How did you pass the bar? And please stop trying to make analogies to monsters. You clearly don't know how they work.”

Unphased, he leaned in close to her, grinning slyly, “ah, but I know how you work, Blue. You’re the Siren.  Every firm in town knows to chart a wide berth around your cases unless they want to get wrapped up like a mummy.  Hell, even my dad uses you as motivation for us to try harder. And I know you will do just about _ anything, _ —” she pulled a face at the insinuation, as he held his hands up concedingly, “—professionally of course, to win a case. Or steal one from us.”

“I don't steal. And I’m insulted that you think me so unethical,” she defensively accused.

Raditz leaned against the wall with a genuine self-assurance for the first time all evening. His chin jutted up as he smirked. Bulma held firm, trying not to let it show how much it unnerved her to see the man in his plotting mode. 

“I don't think you’re unethical. I think you’re ruthless. And that comes with relationships, too. I’ve heard all about the bridges you’ve burned over the years. This is different, though. I can smell it on you. You want my boy and now you’re on guard, almost as if you’d  _ actually care _ if he found out who you really were,  _ Maron _ . I have leverage on you. And you hate it.”

“Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve had even a shred of anonymity, Raditz? And not just from locals who have no understanding of what we do. But from someone who will actually understand me and my work.” Maybe it was the final rush of liquor settling in her muscles, maybe it was the way Vegeta had looked into her with his impossibly intense yet insecure dark eyes. Considering the short amount of time they had talked, Vegeta had fascinated her in ways that shouldn’t have sparked anything substantial. The challenge of him was exhilarating. And to pursue him, she gave Raditz one honest inch. In response, he shut up for once in his life.

Bulma looked to the floor in ponderance and came to the only conclusion fitting for a lawyer caught between a rock and a hard dick. Blunt negotiation. 

“What do you want for your silence?” she asked, determination set in her gaze.

“Two things,” he began.

“One,” she countered immediately, “and it depends. But for now one.”

Raditz smiled crookedly as he wagged a thick finger at her, “I don't think you’re in a position to be wheelin’ and dealin’ if you want to be _ positioned  _ with him. Hint hint, nudge nudge.”

Bulma groaned with vexation, “you don't need to say that out loud. It’s implied, idiot.”

Ignoring her, he continued, “first: I want 4 clients.”

“Four?” she pretended to pale at the thought. Sure, four wasn’t  _ that  _ terrible to give up. Maybe one less cocktail dress this season. But she didn’t want him to know that it would only cause a mild inconvenience. Negotiation was an art, after all. “You’re joking. For your silence? Four?”

“A good dicking will cost you,” he shrugged with a full toothed grin.

“Are you his pimp now? You know solicitation is illegal, right?”

“How do you think the two of you met?” his eyes narrowed shamelessly. 

For a brief moment, she was disarmed, “I don't- I- We’ll come back to that later. One client.” She countered. 

“Three.”

Bulma scoffed, “were you always going to compromise with two?”

“Two is a good number.”

Sighing, Bulma wanted nothing more than for the tiresome conversation to end. “Done. What’s your next extortion detail?”

His face darkened as he spoke with purpose. “That desk.” He practically hissed through gritted teeth.

“Excuse me?” she inquired, bemused.

“His desk. It’s like... A shrine to his personal gilded bubble. Nearly every time I go in there, he’s polishing it like its the fucking 8th wonder of the world. As if the guy could be more uptight. He has such a big stick up his ass, he gives new meaning to anal retentive.”

“Thank you for that colorful imagery.” 

“I  _ hate  _ that desk.” He sneered bitterly.

She stifled a laugh at the absurdity. As temptingly curious she was to inquire further, Bulma was positive she really didn’t want to know the details. “So what do you want me to do?”

“I’m assuming the reason you came along on this little field trip was for some hanky panky with that broody gremlin in there. Don’t give me that look. I can see the appeal.”

Bulma repressed the desire to strangle him. How had he managed to be both annoyingly correct while also having the conversational etiquette of a prison inmate was beyond her comprehension. She remained silent, not willing to deign him with an answer.

“I want you to damage it.” Raditz ordered.

“How?” she asked, playing along.

“I don't give a shit. You’re creative. Figure it out. Oh! But not you. Him. Get him to scratch his own precious fucking desk, a nick, a gash, something visible. Make him crack his own shell so he realizes there’s more to life than wax on, wax off and I will keep my mouth shut on this hilarious mistaken identity problem.”

Negotiation was an art. As intriguing as his proposal sounded, Bulma wasn’t one to sign on the dotted line so easily. Bulma took pride in being able to gain an advantage in any situation. Knowing how the brash, uncouth, hounddog, first son of Bardock operated, Bulma took a deep breath and exhaled as she adjusted her features to the most convincing simper she could muster. She could still get her way and not encourage destruction of private property. 

With a flutter of her lashes, she pouted sweetly. “I couldn’t just ask you kindly for your discretion. As a gentleman.” 

Raditz chuckled. “Blue, if I were a gentleman, I wouldn’t be a lawyer.”

Truer words had never been spoken. She scoffed. Well, she tried. 

Bulma considered the dark eyed man who’d captured her affections only hours before and wondered if he was truly worth it. All that arrogance in such a delectable little package. Her hand thrust itself out, ready to shake, before she even finished the thought. She’d never been more ready to finalize a deal. “Fine. Two cases, of my choosing, go to this lackluster establishment. And one nicely vandalized desk for your silence. Do we have an accord?”

His large mitt encased her small hand as he shook it with surprising delicacy. “M’lady. We have an accord.”


	6. The Distraction

As she entered his office for the first time, a glance up then back down greeted her as he airily waved to a leather chair in the middle of the room. Vegeta flipped open the manila folder atop a stack of its clones. By the look of it, a solid half dozen more awaited his immediate attention. Given the urgency with which they returned to the building, Bulma had suspected that the newbie would be flustered by the sudden paperwork littering his space and racing through the documents with a petulance that matched his false bravado. However, the man stood behind his incredibly large desk—Raditz really hadn’t been kidding for once—and processed the paperwork with a meticulous, calm nature that softened her expression. The vintage, gold, Jean Paul Gautlier spring-hinge glasses currently framing his dark eyes with that subtle hexagon style weakened her legs. 

“Have a seat, but please don’t touch anything. It’s all quite valuable. I’ll be done shortly.” 

She glanced around the room with an arched brow. Expensive knick-knacks spoke to her of a sense of wealth and class. She pressed her shoe into the Persian rug under her heel, glanced at the brown executive chairs before his ridiculous desk, eyed the cherry bookcases. His personal space certainly gave off the impression he preferred opulent things to people. As she meandered about, Bulma considered her approach to the intriguing man. A quick glance in his direction as she tapped a Swarovski crystal statue of some impressive landscape revealed he was absorbed in his work for the time being. 

Vegeta was clearly caught up in his uptight and meticulous appearance, and while his obvious peacocking with expensive trinkets wasn’t her style, she appreciated his personal intensity. Still, a great lawyer didn’t need these trinkets. If he was as competent as his bragging suggested, a lesson was in order. Skills spoke for themselves. So perhaps Raditz was right. Mr. Pretentious McMuscleyThigh Esq. needed to loosen up, and needed to take his pretentious desk with him. Strolling back up to his desk, she ran her fingers slowly along the edge. 

At this, he finally rewarded her with a sharp glance. Dark eyes instantly assessed her, fingertip to lips.

_Oh god yes. I will let you do terrible things to me if you look at me like that again._

Before she could toss him a sultry smile, his pen was scrying his signature on the next document. She opted to sit on the far edge of his desk across from him and slid her hips against a small, brass clock. As planned, the doodad was shoved an inch from its resting position. Not enough force to cause any damage, but oopsie. She touched something.

“The chairs are better suited for your—,” he paused his speech, but not his work. She watched him chew the word ‘ _ass’_ until he ground it down into something less blunt. “—comfort.”

“Oh, that’s okay. I think watching you work is _fascinating_ ,” she leaned further, her foot now leaving the floor as she bent into his space. Coyly, she asked, “need any help?”

He snorted and ignored the question. But she noted, he did not object to her new intrusion. She shimmied her body the length of her thighs onto the massive desk, hips purposely nudging some of the paperwork, reached across his workspace and slipped her fingertips into his hairline, brushing the curve of his ear. “At least take that blazer off, so I can get a better look at you.”

He paused in the middle of his signature, but finished without a mistake. 

_Not enough._

“I’d be happy to return the favor,” she added in a honeyed tone. 

His hand gripped his fountain pen and scryed it across the remainder of the signature line, leaving a dent and an obvious inkblot at the end. She smiled at her small victory and brought her fingertips back down the edge of his jaw, directing his glance up to hers. He set the pen down and gazed, _GAZED_ into her eyes. The intensity of his black eyes, framed in gold were highlighted by the slight flush of color across his cheeks. With her free hand, she knocked the clock over. It hit the rug with a satisfying thump.

“Oops,” she pursed her lips for the word and kept them slightly puffed before she smiled just enough. He pulled his face from her hand and scowled, with an eyebrow twitch.

“Please, just…,” he cleared his throat and stood straight, picking up the clock and placing it on the bookcase. “...have a seat in that chair.” 

Perhaps thinking she went too far already, she smiled realizing he was acquiescing to her request as he removed his blazer, his muscled physique alluded to just under his dress shirt. “You need to be patient. I won’t be long.”

“Oh, I don't mind long ... things.” 

He faltered at the innuendo and quickly turned to hang up his jacket. Bulma slid off the edge of the desk and sat in the leather wingback chair across from him. Prim at first, crossing her hands in her lap, one leg over the other, she waited for Vegeta to return to his work. The next folder snapped open and she watched his fingers glide across the dense legalese, making notes in the margins with his pen. Below the brass lamp on the corner of his desk, Bulma eyed an antique paperweight. Round, solid glass surrounding a purple-edged orchid. She admitted it was pretty before lifting her foot up and nudging the glass off of its flat surface with her stiletto heel. It rolled right into his workspace and she watched his eyebrow quirk at the rustle it made in the silence save for pen on paper.

Vegeta’s hand stopped again. She set her heel on the table and smiled at him. He reached over before the sphere could travel any further, righted the object, and returned to his work without a glance or a chiding. She flexed her foot, nudging her shoe off completely, hooking the paperweight with the tip of her stocking covered toes. Both tumbled off the edge of the desk and plonked onto the carpet.

“ _Maron_.”

“I’m bored, Vegeta,” she sighed dramatically and stood up, kicking off her other heel. 

She stepped around the desk and stood beside him. As soon as he resumed his paperwork, she slid her hands over his shoulders and traced the muscular chest below. Lips pressed against his ear, she whispered, “play with me. I’m important, too.”

Her tongue darted out and licked his ear while her fingers started loosening his tie. Still, the man continued to work. Her lips dropped to the stiff collar and pressed light kisses to his skin. He smelled of pine, smoke, and vanilla. Like a new bourbon. Bright and complex, but unaged. She could hardly wait to taste him. Nudging her nose against his throat, she heard him drop the pen on his stack of papers.

“Good. Now, work on me instead.” For good measure, she bit his neck as she finished opening the knot of his tie. As he gave a restrained sigh, she snaked his tie off his neck and tossed it to the ground. Vegeta relented and pushed the stack of folders to the side.

“Come here,” he grunted. She glanced over his shoulder and saw the tightness in his trousers. Before he could object, she slid into his lap, shifting her ass across his swollen crotch. 

“Finally,” she murmured against his lips. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to the amazing skill of our collaborating artist @scarletviridian! Please give them a follow on twitter. Looking forward to sharing the full steamy pic in the next chapter. Stay tuned ;)


	7. The Desk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smut ahoy!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to dedicate this chapter to my partner, my collaborator and a very dear friend of mine Cyevi. Babe, you teased me, challenged me, frustrated me and made me fall in love all in 3 months. You are my Bulma. 
> 
> Enjoy the shameless bliss, y'all
> 
> Thank you for reading

For a brief moment, his needs overshadowed his hesitancy. Strong hands traced the lines of her body like a master sculptor pulling wet clay into his desired form. Her chest pressed against his, while his fingers slid around her waist to pull her closer. She arched into him, her fingers lingering at the base of his hair. His mouth tilted into hers and their bodies shared a breath. 

“Get on the table, Mr. Lawyer.” She spoke without moving her mouth away from his and her tongue punctuated the order as her manicured red pointer finger tapped the wood with purpose. With a low groan and a shift of his hips, he stood reluctantly, allowing her to slide off his lap. But his hands stayed upon her hips and as he turned and sat on the edge of the massive desk, she followed his lead. She pressed into him, deeply kissing him downward until his back lay flat atop the brown leather blotter. With that, she grabbed the side of her maroon dress, hoisted up the hem to the top of her thighs, and straddled his hips. 

“Now then.” She examined the man between her legs with a lick of her lips and a shift of her hips. His hands dropped to her thighs and the lacy skin toned stockings held in place by a matching garter belt. His fingers gripped the soft, exposed flesh just below her hips as his thumbs traced light circles above her inner thighs. Bulma relished the moment and rewarded him with a slow swivel of her hips atop his thickening groin. 

“You are wearing entirely too much,” she whispered with a coy pout. Considering her options, her blue eyes scanned the remaining items elegantly arranged on his desk until she spied a glint of gold in a wooden pen and pencil caddy. In a serendipitous moment, she recalled her agreement with Raditz and her mouth turned up wickedly. 

Bulma leaned over Vegeta, hips rising for a moment, plump breasts fluffing across his face, and reached for a golden letter opener on the far side of the desk. She seated herself once more across his lap and took her time getting comfortable with well-paced grinding. The man below groaned and gripped her thighs with a yank to hold her still. She giggled and bit the letter opener between her teeth.

“Be gentle, Woman. That may be a titanium blade but the damascene inlay is real gold. I don’t need your teeth marks on it.” His half-hearted protest didn’t distract Bulma from making quick work of Vegeta’s belt. Now opened and exposing the clasp on his slacks, she took the letter opener from her teeth and positioned it at his belly. 

“Teeth are fun,” she slipped the letter opener under the split of his dress shirt and wedged it against the bottom button. His eyes went wide, but before he could wax poetic about his bespoke tailored shirt, she snapped the instrument through the button and popped it open. “Marks are fun, too.”

With one hand on his oblique, she kept the shirt steady and slid the blunt knife between his abs, popping open one button after another. She made sure to accentuate each button with a circular grind atop his hips, an area that was now straining under his slacks. He was hard enough that she could rock her body along the length of his covered shaft and feel the thickness begging to spread her apart.

As the final button split open, Bulma slid the cool metal against Vegeta’s neck with a teasing grin before setting it aside. 

“And as promised,” she passed her lips atop his, but without pressure and straightened her spine. Her hands traveled to his, gripped them, and pulled them toward her hips, nudging the slinky, maroon dress higher. He took the hint and followed the curve of her waist, pulling the dress off her body in a seamless motion. Bulma tossed the dress to the side of his desk and framed her own body with her hands, fingertips fluttering along what was left of her nude lingerie. 

His Adam's apple bobbed at the translucent material revealing the faint rose tips of her nipples and small tuft of blue currently pressed against his bulging crotch. Her hands splayed across his pectorals, widening his dress shirt to his shoulders, and her own cheeks warmed with a blush when her fingertips traced the impossibly carved ridges of his abdomen.

“Shall I continue with the  _ discovery _ , Counselor?” Bulma bit her lower lip with a playful smile and slipped her fingers across his taut pelvis and under the elastic of his briefs. Her little pun brought back that arrogant smirk and she was rewarded with a yank on her hips as he bucked his crotch against her body. 

A little gasp escaped her lips in anticipation and she slid off of his lap. While he still lay prone on the desk, one of her hands stroked along the now visible bulge under Vegeta’s black boxer briefs before the other made quick work of the waistband. She pulled the fabric down and immediately wrapped her fingers around the shaft of his thick cock. Her mouth followed, red lips plunging over the swollen head with a soft suckling moan. She closed her eyes and rolled her tongue around the tip as her lips passed back and forth over the ridge. He released a breathy groan and punctuated it by letting his head thunk against the desk.

Lithe fingers worked along the shaft and her tongue slipped across the tiny slit at the top of his cock before she pulled her mouth off with a purposely loud pop.

“F..fuck,” he groaned. “Do that again.”

With a titter, she dropped back down and lavished attention on his starved cock, this time glancing across the fields of muscle to watch his expression twist and pant. After several more suck and releases, he pulled his body off the desk, his hand shooting into her blue tresses to cradle the back of her head with desperation as his mouth came down on hers. Wavy ringlets collapsed through his fingers and framed her flushed cheeks. 

“My turn.” In a blink, he had picked her up and deposited her ass on the edge of the massive workspace. His eyes locked onto hers, his face alight with the smallest sheen of sweat that caused his gold glasses to slip slightly down the bridge of his nose. Breath quick, he brought his lips close to hers and muttered, “You might want to hang on.”

One hand cupped her breast, his thumb yanking the material, exposing her stiffened nipple just before his mouth descended onto her flesh. His other hand cupped the small of her back as he arched into her, bending her body beneath his. The loose length of his belt slid across her thighs as he folded their bodies against the edge of the desk while lapping at her flesh. She wrapped one leg around his hip, nudging his slacks down to his ankles. When his teeth grazed her breast, she moaned with surprise, but her body softened against him and she felt the wetness building between her legs.

With a similar pop, he let her tenderized skin fall from his mouth before he rose up, his mouth finding new purchase at the dip of her throat. He pulled down the shoulder strap of her bra, leaving her half exposed, then his hand dropped between her legs. He palmed the lacy fabric barely hiding her quickly dampening pussy. Thick fingers nudged the fabric aside, then grabbing the base of his shaft. He paused his assault on her neck long enough to meet her eyes as the head of his cock pressed against her sopping entrance. 

She swallowed, and mimicked her initial request from the bar with a husky whisper. “Right now.”

He enthusiastically obliged, his thighs smacking against the front of the table as he shoved his full length into her body, his thickness plowing her open. They shared a moaning duet as their bodies occupied the same space and for that moment the only thing that mattered to either one was the contrast between hard and soft. Bulma grabbed at the loose sides of his shirt and yanked Vegeta closer, urging him to continue like a well-bred racehorse. He bucked and took up a rapid pace, ignoring all the bouncing knick-knacks on his desk.

“Yes!  _ Oh yes! _ Faster!” Bulma squealed and gripped her leg around his hip which allowed her to pull her body off the very edge of the desk. Raising her pussy to his cock on each thrust, she arched her back and tilted her chest to the ceiling. She rode him with abandon, moaning at every wet, fleshy slap. She stretched one hand behind her, trying to find purchase on the back edge, but the damn desk was too big and she only succeeded in knocking off a stack of files.

Seeing her idea, Vegeta tried as well, reaching his hand out for the back of the desk to pound the delicious woman into an orgasmic, sweaty mess. He shoved her body back, with his cock lodged deep and made a grab for the back of the desk. The way she howled in his ear urged him to try again, this time shoving his thigh below hers so that her ass was plum center on his workspace. Still, the massive desk refused his plan. 

Bulma mewled and brought one hand to his jaw, her thumb bumping the lower rim of his gold glasses. Entangled below him, bouncing to his steady rhythm, her blue hair spread across his brown leather desk blotter. Her pale flesh shimmered in the low light cast by his brass lamps, and her red-stained lips pouted beautifully and mouthed for more and more and more. Rolling her head through another moan, a metallic glint twinkled in her peripheral. 

Through the frantic rhythms, she lifted the letter opener into his field of view. He pulled his length out halfway as he took the tool into his palm. His cheeks darkened with a moment of hesitation until his lusty gaze flickered with understanding.

Her breath halted as he lodged the golden knife a good two inches into the mahogany desk, a palm’s width from her ear with a gut-wrenching thunk. Ice shot through her veins as her heart missed a beat. His decalescent breath crashed against her shoulder through a satisfying growl, and his pace became furious. Her skin flushed back to life, hot blood pumping through her body again as she watched his muscles ripple with concerted effort, using the tool for the much-needed leverage. A small curio clattered off the edge of the desk and the brass lamp was thumping closer to its doom. 

Between her pussy attempting to clench onto the piston driving her into the desk and the fist gripping for dear life next to her ear, the tidal orgasm that surged through her body almost knocked her out. His final round of fervent thrusts and deep, rumbling groan as he shuddered inside her triggered a second round of electric waves through her body. 

She collapsed, her limbs spent, but he managed to stay aloft, pinning his body up with those impossible biceps. Their breath was heavy, but slowing as they caught up to one another. New eyes met hers. Still dark, but deep and churning with endorphins that blurred the sharpness from his expression. The fleeting softness melting across his stern features was a drug she wasn’t sure she would be able to quit after this moment. His forehead dropped to her shoulder as his arms finally relaxed. 

She reveled in his weight atop hers, the heat of his chest blanketing her nakedness. Her fingers traced the back of his neck and met the base of his hairline.  _ Delicious, but it had to be now. _

“I have to tell you something,” she whispered huskily.

“Oh?” His sharp, lustful eyes drifted up and held only her attention. His lips still bruised red from her kiss looked absolutely delectable. Her gaze wandered down to his carved chest now framed by a very wrinkled, bespoke dress shirt. She bit her lip to suppress a grin when she noticed a button had been  _ somehow  _ sliced off. 

_ Focus, it needs to be now. _

“My name isn’t Maron and I don't think you were meant to meet me. It’s Bulma. As in the ‘Blue Siren,’ Bulma Briefs. How very pleased to make your acquaintance, Counselor.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art masterfully done by @scarletviridian 
> 
> Just an incredible artist to work with. They were extremely patient, attentive and accommodating with the two of us, even from the very beginning during the vague concept part of the work. Cyevi and I are deeply thankful and proud to have worked with them. I would highly recommend giving them a follow on twitter.


	8. The Delay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the reads, kudos, comments and support! It's been a blast to write and we're so glad you all enjoyed this silly fic. 
> 
> See you in the next one! Happy reading

The heels of his black cap-toe Oxfords clipped along the sandy colored parquet tile of the courthouse flooring. In a rush, Vegeta barely had time to gather all the paperwork ready for his ill-tempered client into his briefcase, let alone have breakfast- all thanks to the morning’s distraction. 

He pinched his mouth peevishly as he walked with a wide gait. It wasn't like him to be tardy. His client was waiting for him on the 4th floor, and as he imagined, she probably would be sour as a lemon in her expensive low cut designer dress purchased just for the occasion to piss off her soon to be ex-husband while they attempted to hash out who got one of their four yachts for several hours on Vegeta’s time. He didn’t really mind that part. At 450 zeni an hour, they could go all day for all he cared. Even having to be babysat disguised as accountability by Raditz due to his junior status was tolerable. Being late, though, was not something he could easily dismiss. As much as he wanted to relish in the morning delay, he preferred to be punctual and on time. 

The elevator dinged open just as he walked up, and once inside its cage, he repeatedly pressed the door close with aggravation. Unfortunately, a red nailed hand held the door at the last moment and the doors bounced open to let her through. Vegeta scoffed at the audacity, until he saw who it was that stalled his swift ascent. At that, he frowned.

“Why, hello Vegeta.” She preened, fluffing her blue hair so that it fell with a slight wavy bounce on her shoulders. A waft of strawberry shampoo tempted his nose. She eyed him coyly and pressed the worn button for the 10th floor.  _ Damn her. _

“Bulma.” He said with polite curtness, in no mood to hide the tick in his jaw as he glanced down at his Rolex for the 10th time in five minutes. 

She chuckled and adjusted her slim briefcase between her hands. “Are we late, Your Highness?” She mocked.

He willed himself not to mutter obscene words. “Only by 15 minutes.” He finally said with subdued sarcasm as the elevator dinged while passing the second floor. He pretended not to notice her invading his space with subtle steps.

“15 minutes late. Tragic,” she oozed humored contempt. “I wonder how that happened.”

_ And that's enough of that _ , he thought as he dropped his case on the floor with a thud and turned suddenly to wrap his hand with gentle firmness around her perfect throat without warning. She gasped as he pressed her against the back wall of the elevator. Her eyes wide and sparkling, he smirked triumphantly in catching her off guard.

“You know damn well why I’m late. Now, unless you want to be ravaged right here in this elevator for all of my coworkers to see and test your reputation’s strength, I suggest you keep your tongue in check and wait until later this evening to try my patience. Either option works for me. However, you may have more fortuitous results and less embarrassment being bent over our dining table rather than in public for all to see.” 

Her face had a lovely blush as her breath quickened, her chest rising and falling under her grey wool blazer. Depending on her answer, he would feel slightly saddened to have to ruin such a nice outfit. His pointer finger grazed nicely along her jawline as he watched her mind calculate. The elevator dinged for the third floor. 

“Are you willing to be more tardy on my behalf?” she said in a clear attempt at regaining her lost footing. Her knee slowly dragged up his leg to nuzzle enticingly against his half-hard cock but he wouldn’t budge. Such was this woman to try and charm back control after losing so much ground. He smirked knowingly. All he would have to do was kiss her and she’d be a puddle for him to lap up. 

He canted his head as he drew close, whispering in her ear, “would you like to find out?” He pressed his hip into her knee, the proximal space nudging her skirt higher as they fought for control. 

A wide smile spread across her face as she wrapped her dainty hand around the one at her throat and slowly pulled it away. “I can wait.” 

“Good. Because I’m really late.”

Vegeta picked up his suitcase off the floor and looked at his watch again. Bulma smoothed her skirt and suit jacket. 

“I’m sorry for being so irresistible.” She simpered while batting her eyes. 

“This is what I get for letting you move in. I can never expect to be on time again.” He lamented. At least he had won this round.

She winked as the elevator finally dinged for the fourth floor, the doors opening with a creak. 

On the other side of the doors, an impatient Raditz turned from his apparent pacing in the hallway. His face, initially peeved, drew back to a dark scowl as he locked eyes with the woman left behind in the elevator. 

She had the gall to wink and wave. “Hi, Raditz.” 

Vegeta stepped out while Raditz flipped her the bird.

“Don’t you say hi to me, Blue. I’m still pissed you gave me bullshit clients. I had to spend 5 hours trying to work with a couple of lunatics fighting over custody of a ferret!” he yelled before turning his back on her and stomping off. 

Snickering, she remained in the lift, heading for a higher floor. “Have fun, boys. Vegeta, I’ll see you later.”

Following his associate who had disappeared into the conference room, a short tsking noise drew Vegeta’s attention back to her. The doors mid-close, she pulled up her skirt to briefly and skimpily reveal her creamy thighs and black lace underwear underneath. She had a thumbnail between her teeth and he could have sworn he heard her moan just as the portal shut. 

He stood staring as he felt his face turn beet red while his trousers became a little tighter from the lewd display. Damn that temptress. Turning with a frustrated groan and stalking the length of the hallway to his unpleasant client, Vegeta considered all the terrible, delicious things he would do to his woman later. Even after knowing her since their chance meeting four months ago she never ceased to challenge him beyond expectation. Oh, how he loathed and loved that woman.

The boardroom doors opened and he took a seat in between his pucker-faced, scowling client and his longhaired associate who dropped his own briefcase on the table a little more forceful than probably intended. 

Vegeta made his polite, insincere apologies while getting out the documents required for the day, but stilled as Raditz leaned over and hissed with disdain, “your girlfriend is driving me nuts.”

Vegeta smirked.  _ Me, too _ , he thought. He’d have to do something about that later. Perhaps break out the letter opener. After all, he did have several brand new ones for just such an occasion tucked away in one of the locked drawers of his  _ favorite _ mahogany desk. 


End file.
